


I'll Wear Your Crown

by avengersasssemble



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Accidental concubine, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bottom Tony, Concubine Tony Stark, Death to Howard Stark, Dom Tony, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Getting Together, Guilt, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Sub Steve, Top Steve, king steve rogers, mentions of wounds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-10
Updated: 2018-05-30
Packaged: 2019-04-20 22:25:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14270826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avengersasssemble/pseuds/avengersasssemble
Summary: King Steven refuses to let a fallen Prince die, so he evokes a contract without fully knowing all of its clauses.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sabrecmc](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabrecmc/gifts).
  * Inspired by [The Prize](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11314392) by [sabrecmc](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabrecmc/pseuds/sabrecmc). 



> In anticipation of The Prize, for @sabrecmc.

_I am not cruel, I am just_ , He thought to himself, hands tightening on his horse’s reins as he stared out over the crowd.

As he had just returned victorious from war, King Steven had his usual parade of honor thrown, in which the fallen King’s head was placed upon a spike and carried through the kingdom to be set at the entrance of his castle to rot. Generally, he hated the tradition, but it was _tradition_ , and it only lasted a few days until the flesh started to accumulate maggots and bloat, so he let it be for the time being. This last victory had made Steve especially eager to host the parade: King Howard Stark had been a cruel, unforgiving monster, not even worthy of being deemed a man. He was known throughout the lands as a drunkard and a whore, abusing his wife, his harem, and his slew of bastard children that he forced to the front lines of the war to die.

 _He deserved death_ , Steve thought as he waved to his people, catching one of the lilies tossed at him to tuck behind his ear.

Still, the war troubled him so, for though Stark deserved to die, his people did not. Steve wanted to win with as few casualties as possible, but the men that were not directly under his control took the opportunity to slaughter the people, knowing it would bring great pride to the kingdom to utterly destroy Stark’s reign. It made Steve’s stomach uneasy, but he was known for being ruthless toward those that held immoral values, so he attempted to push the feeling down, instead riding up to the steep staircase that led up to his castle. Despite his stature, leaped off of his horse with grace, handing him off to a stable boy and moving to take his place for the head placement. However, the crowd instead started to scream and jeer, instead of their usual cheers and clapping.

“I cry out! What is happening?” Steve called out to the crowd, putting out his hands to placate them.

“We have brought the King a gift!” One of the soldiers called back, shouldering their way through the jeering crowd.

Two soldiers finally made it to the front, and between them, a bleeding and clearly injured man hung from their grasps, his head somehow held high despite the obvious wounds to his trunk and legs. Steve sucked in a harsh breath at the sight. Sure, he was used to battlefield wounds, but the scrapings of nails deep enough to tear out chunks of flesh made him queasy.

“You bring me a mutilated man as a gift? Explain,” Steve commanded, walking forward to try and get a better look.

The soldiers threw the man to the ground, who, despite his legs buckling, managed to haul himself into a kneeling position, only to be held there by one of the soldiers digging their plated glove into his hair. Still, the man made no sound save for heavy breathing, watching Steve with careful eyes.

“We have brought you the son of the fallen King, Anthony Stark!” The soldier not holding Anthony proclaimed to the crowd, drawing more jeers and hissing, “We have brought him to die!”

The crowd finally erupted into cheers, at which Steve winced, due to the deafening noise. He immediately put his hand up to silence them, staring at the fallen man before him. Crouching down, Steve inspected Anthony’s face, frowning at the blood still freely flowing from his nose. He poked and prodded at Anthony, but the man maintained his gaze, a sharp, familiar fierceness behind his eyes that reminded Steve a bit of himself. Of course, he knew who Anthony was, _everyone_ knew Prince Anthony Stark: the true heir to the Stark throne, the deadly mind behind Howard’s arsenal that had injured hundreds of Steve’s own men.

That being, injured _only_. The one time Steve lost men to Howard was in their final battle, but that was due to one of Howard’s weapons backfiring and exploding, killing his own infantrymen in the process. He had wanted to question Anthony about the oddness of it, as the weaponry seemed designed to kill Howard’s own men, but he had figured Howard had sent him to the front lines to die.

Apparently not.

Sure in his decision, Steve stood back to his full height, having to put his hands out again to calm the screaming crowd calling for Anthony’s head to also be placed on a spike next to his father. He sighed inwardly, hoping that his decision would placate the crowd.

“Have you not had enough death already?” Steve called out, “Are you not satisfied with the blood that has already been shed? How can you blame a man for his father’s wrongdoings? Would any of you stand here today if you were punished for your father’s crimes?”

The crowd was awkwardly silent at that, and Steve had to forcibly hold back his smile at Anthony’s surprised look.

“Though I understand he has his own crimes to pay, I will not execute Anthony,” He continued, having to placate the crowd when they began to shout wildly, “Instead, I will be evoking an old tradition from before my mother’s father’s kingdom. When a neighboring kingdom is conquered, their heir is given to the King as a slave. I shall take Anthony for my own, to live in shackles and chains at my feet, for the conquered suffer more in life than in death.”

Finally, the crowd jeered, and Anthony was yanked to his feet by the soldiers, clearly bewildered by the outcome of his situation. Steve waved at the crowd and followed the soldiers into the castle, leaving the delegates to begin the pike ceremony without him.

“Take him to Banner immediately,” he said to the soldiers, “Stay with him until I come to his side.”

They saluted Steve and dragged Anthony off, leaving Steve to be fussed over by his washwomen. Generally, he preferred to take off his armor himself and polish it, but he wanted to make sure Anthony was seen to properly, so he let the women undress him and force him into a quick washing, scrubbing blood, guts, and dirt off him. He was perfumed and stuffed into comfortable garb before his light crown was adorned onto him. His heavy crown was reserved for momentous occasions and was left in the vault, so he wore a sapphire-studded silver circlet that would not weigh down his brow. Once the ladies deemed him acceptable for the public, Steve poured himself a glass of wine and headed back out, immediately heading to the infirmary.

Hushed voices greeted him in the hallway, so Steve took the opportunity to barge into the conversation, finding Anthony grumbling as the kingdom’s best physician, Bruce Banner, inserted small sticks into Anthony’s nose.

“Grumbling about the current pain will not make it hurt less,” Bruce said, rolling his eyes at whatever Anthony had said under his breath, “Count of three, ready? One—”

He quickly clicked Anthony’s nose back into place, sighing when the man yelped at the sudden pain. Quickly, he moved to bandage the nose to keep it in place, stuffing balls of cotton into Anthony’s nostrils to staunch the blood flow.

“My liege,” One of the soldiers said, finally noticing Steve’s presence, “The slave has—”

“Behaved fine for a man with shattered ribs, a broken nose, and probably a head spell,” Bruce snorted, waving Steve over, “The gouges in his arms and legs are not as deep as they seem, so they should heal with proper treatment and salve. His leg is for sure injured, but the bone is not broken, so he should be able to put weight on it in a week or so. I’d recommend him staying in my care, but—”

“I’m fine,” Anthony said, his voice deep and gravely, a heavy contrast to his young face, “Really. Just put me in the dungeon.”

“You won’t be in the dungeon,” Steve interrupted, folding his arms over his chest, “You’ll be in my quarters.”

It took three seconds for Anthony to start to complain, at which Bruce poked the swelling bruise on his cheek, causing him to yelp again and shut up.

“If I was in your position, I would be grateful for my life,” Steve mentioned casually, watching as Bruce started to bandage up Anthony’s arms, “I could have let you be mauled by the crowd.”

“Yes, you could have, but even you cannot knowingly throw away an _asset_ ,” Anthony sneered, holding Steve’s gaze again, “Don’t bullshit me, Rogers—”

One of the soldiers stepped forward, ready to swing his hand down, but Steve reached out and grabbed his arm, leveling him with a look. Surprised, the soldier stepped back, and Steve nodded.

“You’re right. I like to save what I can salvage,” he said carefully, not quite ready to divulge his secret to either Bruce or the soldiers, “And I chose you. So put your words to use instead of merely releasing the hot air from your head.”

Bruce laughed at that, grinning at Anthony’s gape. He patted his good leg before helping him down, at which Steve immediately picked Anthony up as if he weighed nothing. The fallen prince squeaked, only to glare at Steve.

“You are not to be on your feet for a while. Would you rather walk?” Steve said, not really caring for Anthony’s answer.

“He has a point,” Bruce said, packing a canvas bag full of vials and containers, “My King, I’ve put instructions for his care in here with his necessary treatments. Your washwomen should know how to properly apply it, but if you wish to do it yourself, it is fairly easy and simple to do so. Send word if he gives you trouble, or if he breaks something else. Also, I will send word to Margaret. Once his leg heals, he will need to train with her to regain his strength.”

“Thank you, doctor,” Steve said earnestly, letting one of the soldiers take the bag since Anthony took up his two arms, “I’ll make note.”

With that, he took his leave from the infirmary, acutely aware of Anthony’s silence. Steve carried him all the way up two flights of stone steps to his personal quarters, bidding the soldiers leave once they entered. Finally alone with the fallen prince, Steve carefully settled him onto his own bed, making sure his injured leg was elevated and the pillows behind him were supporting him correctly.

“Why?” Anthony finally spoke, looking tired and gaunt as he rested against the fine bedding, “Why are you doing this? Pray tell; I realize my looks are one thing, but you do not seem to be the type of man who conquers without some sort of consent.”

Steve flushed at that, putting his hands on his hips. Of course, the old law had meant that the King could take the conquered heir as a _concubine_ , but he had figured Anthony hadn’t known the law.

“No, I am not,” He replied, bringing over a chair to sit next to Anthony, “I have questions that only you can answer, but I needed you alive. I would rather my people think of you as a sex slave than forcing you to hang like a criminal.”

“So, you think me innocent?” Anthony asked, raising his eyebrows with a smirk, “Or am I more than a criminal?”

“I think you are a survivalist,” Steve said, clasping his hands together between his knees, “I think you hated the position your father had put you in, and I think you knew he was trying to manipulate you into actions that you did not believe in. Am I close?”

Steve watched as Anthony darted his tongue out to wet his lips, his posture rigid against the sheets. _Gotcha_ , he thought, a smile coming to his own lips.

“I was not sure at first, but after Howard’s machines and catapults began to malfunction and kill his own troops, I suspected as much,” he continued, thoroughly enjoying the red that flared on Anthony’s cheeks and neck, “I never thought a wooden contraption could explode with such force, but after one of my men found gunpowder stocks near the blast site that was extremely out of place, I figured someone had rigged them. Of course, the only person who would be able to accomplish something of that magnitude without Howard noticing would have been the only man allowed to engineer and handle them.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not proud of it,” Anthony replied bitterly, “I killed men, women, _and_ children. I was careless, even if I was attempting to keep him from injuring others. I still—”

“Hundreds in my battalion are alive and with their families because of your bravery,” Steve interrupted quietly, leveling Anthony with one of his best kingly looks, “I wish it would be simple enough to tell the kingdom of your actions, but I fear that they would not understand and still would call for your death. The good news is, you are alive, and once you are healed, I will grant you access to my armory and my personal engineer. Though he is apter in developing finer, more accurate weaponry, I hope you will be able to help us develop larger machines that can be placed outside the kingdom’s walls to be used for protection.”

“And if I don’t?” Anthony challenged.

“Then you find something to do. I would let you go free, but I suspect you’d be outright killed, and I’d be overthrown. After a few months, I’ll find a way to stage your death and have one of my trusted men take you to a safe house,” Steve said, shrugging, “From there, you will be given food and money, and can go your own way with a new identity, if you so choose.”

It was quiet in the room, save for the crackling of the fire in the hearth. Steve carefully watched Anthony as he seemed to mull the offer over and could have screamed in victory when he finally nodded.

“Fine. I’ll see what I can do. I’ll become antsy after a day or so anyway. And I suppose I should thank you for saving my life,” he said, giving Steve what he could only describe as a whisper of a smile.

“Do not thank me. Not until I’ve let you go. I have kept no slaves until today, and that is by choice,” he answered, “Thank me once you are liberated, not because I have enslaved you. It will haunt me that I forced you to my side, even if it be for a noble cause. I will treat you well, Anthony. I swear by it.”

“Tony,” Anthony corrected, rolling his eyes, “No one but Howard calls—called me Anthony. Formality has never been my strong suit. And yeah, I’m not _free_ , but I get to stay in a down-feather bed and be adorned with gold, jewels, and fine silk. I guess I did get the raw end of the deal, here.”

Steve laughed, reaching to gently squeeze Tony’s hand.

“You’re right. I do not need to lament to you. I apologize,” he said, standing from his chair, “Now, my women shall be in shortly to bathe you and dress you more…appropriately. Even if you are a slave in name, you will not be in one by dress. Hope will be around to fit you with a new wardrobe. If you would like something to entertain yourself with, I have my own personal library in the window nook. Though I suspect art and battle tactics are not your fancy, there is blank paper and charcoal if you wish to begin a list of things you would like to have. We can discuss it later and I will try and get you what you want, barring any items that slaves cannot be seen carrying. However, I am not opposed to their use within this room.”

“You’re leaving?” Tony asked, hearing the message under Steve’s babbling, “You’re leaving me here? With people who might kill me?”

“They will not touch you in a way that you protest against. Above all, you are mine, and unless they want their hands removed, they will not harm you,” Steve assured, taking up Tony’s hand again, “If anyone attempts to hurt you, you tell me, and I’ll see to it that they are punished accordingly. You are, in my eyes, a guest of the kingdom.”

“You sure are noble for someone who just slaughtered my father and nearly a thousand people,” Tony said flatly, carefully removing his hand from Steve’s grasp.

The silence was heavy between them, but Steve sighed and nodded, adjusting his circlet as its weight was all too heavy on his brow.

 “It…I did not want to harm the people. My men—they have long harbored resent against Howard and took the opportunity to burn it all when they could,” he said quietly, staring out the castle window to watch the people milling below, “I do not apologize for Howard’s death, though. He was—”

“Horrible and deserved it. I wish I had been there for the beheading,” Tony murmured, earning a surprised noise from Steve, “What? You’ve heard the rumors. It wasn’t only the bastard children he beat, mind you. You did me a large favor without even knowing it. I suppose I’m even more in your debt.”

“A man who beats his children is no man at all,” Steve said, not quite _to_ Tony, but rather _at_ him, “Perhaps I’ll leave his head to rot longer than usual.”

There was a knock at the door that caused both men to jump, at which Tony groaned and clutched his leg, leaning back against the pillows. Steve immediately tried to worry over him, but Tony waved him away to call out for the person to open the door.

“Steven Grant, I cannot believe you took a _concubine_ , what was all that horseshit about _consent—”_

A woman with curly hair nearly kicked the door open as she entered, only to stop when she realized Tony was in the bed with Steve beside him. She rolled her eyes and dragged Steve away from the bed, grunting at him when he tried to protest. Tony laughed, only to grunt himself at the movement aggravated his nose and bruising.

“Are you Hope? Or a lover that I should be jealous of?” He finally said, giving the woman an easy smile.

“No, she’s—”

“Margaret Carter. Peggy. Head of Steven’s battalion. Ex-betrothed to _this_ jackass,” she interrupted, jabbing her thumb at Steve, “He’s got a good heart, but as he’s stubborn as an ox and _saving himself_ —”

“Peggy!” Steve exclaimed, flushing.

“—Oh, you would have told your _concubine_. Did you finally decide to accept that you wanted something other than a woman?”

She turned to Tony with an exaggerated sigh, pretending to not notice Steve’s embarrassed whine.

“I really thought he was going to faint when he saw my nudity for the first time,” Peggy explained, moving over to lay down on the bed next to Tony, “All he knew was his own equipment, so it really was not a surprise when breasts and a vagina turned out to not be part of his palette. He barely got past putting his mouth on my clit before he apologized and ran from the room.”

“Peggy,” Steve tried again, attempting to sound harsh.

“Oh, hush it, I’m talking to the concubine, not you,” Peggy dismissed him with a wave of her hand.

Tony burst into laughter, only to wince at his grabbed at his ribs. He groaned, only to sigh in pleasure when a soft hand started to massage his stomach.

“Poor thing, they really beat you, did they not?” she tsked softly, shaking her head, “I’m sure Bruce took good care of you. You will be healed soon then and we can start training.”

“Training?” Tony echoed.

“Y-yes,” Steve coughed, his face still flushed with embarrassment, “Peggy will be teaching you hand-to-hand combat, as part of helping you to heal. You will need to remain active so the muscles in your leg do not deteriorate.”

“Is that all she’ll teach me?” he drawled, winking over at the woman.

“If I could teach you how to bed the King, I would not be an ex,” she scoffed, hopping off the bed, “You will have to do that on your own, I’m afraid. And soon.”

“Soon?” Steve asked, hearing Tony’s voice on top of his own with the same question.

“Yes. You evoked the old law,” Peggy said slowly, glancing back and forth between the two men, “It specifically says you two must consummate before the kingdom. Or did you forget that part?”

“Forgot,” Steve squeaked, “Definitely forgot.”

Tony was silent from his place on the bed, staring at the red sheets pooled around him, looking as though he wanted them to swallow him whole. With a sigh, Steve gathered himself up, then took Peggy by her elbow and guided her to the door, exchanging a quiet conversation before closing the door behind her and locking it. He took a deep breath, and then another, forcing himself to have the courage to turn around and return to Tony’s side.

“I a—”

“You do not need to apologize,” Tony interrupted, “It’s fine. We can go through with it. I have had my share of experience, I can make it good for you—”

“I haven’t.”

Steve only kept Tony’s gaze before forcing his eyes elsewhere. _Coward_.

“You haven’t?”

“Other than Peggy, no. I mean, I had a few experiences with men, but nothing more than a kiss.”

Steve crossed his arms over his chest, becoming vaguely aware of how he spoke one of his most hidden secrets into existence. It was not as though he was necessarily ashamed of his virginity, but as a King, he was supposed to bed anyone that he liked, and for most Kings, they took that to heart and had large and expansive harems. However, before he gained his strength in the army, he was not exactly the type for dames or men to take to, so his need for sexual release had always been bottled up and stored away. Then, with Peggy, he thought he’d finally have his chance, but she was his closest friend and ally, and he could not find it within himself to _claim_ her, make her nothing more than a trophy in the eyes of the kingdom. She deserved her place in the battalion and he would not take that away from her.

“My liege?”

Steve blinked as he was drawn from his thoughts, realizing that Tony had moved to place a hand on his arm.

“Sorry. Caught up in memories,” he said, shaking his head, “You need to lay down.”

“There are four women with steaming buckets of water at the door,” Tony said patiently, “I think they mean to bathe me.”

Steve whirled around, finally noticing the women. He dragged a hand over his face before waving them over, helping to ease Tony up off the bed and into the bathing room. Leaving Tony to be attended to—and not wanting to draw his mind into impurity with thoughts of the man in the nude—Steve left to ring for the launderer, having them change his bedsheets out after Tony had laid on it without being washed. Once his bed was back in place, Hope had arrived, her arms laden with spools of colorful fabric. Steve quickly moved to his desk so his back was to his mirror, trying not to think of Tony in traditional concubine wear.

“My King, I would like your opinion on coloring,” Hope called after a few minutes, walking over with swatches of fabric, “I was thinking gold, but perhaps red or blue would be more suited to your tastes?”

Steve took the swatches and stared at them, feeling the silky material between his fingers. Peggy had worn an outfit with the same kind of material in a deep blue, and the thought of Tony wearing something similar lit a fire in both his loins and his brain.

“The red. Red and gold. Anything he desires, really,” He finally decided, handing the swatches back, “Give him everything he wants.”

_Anything to keep him from hating me too much for the burden I must bear._

He was no stranger to inner conflicts, but Steve recognized his fault, and quickly picked up a quill and began to write, organizing his decisions into _good_ and _bad_. He knew it was _good_ to save Tony’s life, to give him a home, to get him back on his feet and to eventually let him go. However, it was very _bad_ that he doomed Tony to a life of slavery under his current name, and by not fully remembering the laws, dooming him to public humiliation in the form of voyeuristic intercourse. Mulling that last one over, Steve decided he also doomed himself to it as well, so he crossed it out, figuring that if Tony had to suffer, he would suffer with him.

_Since when did I care so much for a man whose father tried to castrate me?_

The anxiety of the realization was quickly stamped down when a yowl of pain made him turn around, feeling his jaw drop as he stared at Tony. Hope had draped him in a wine-red skirt that rested just under his hips and touched the ground, but was cut with two long leg-slits, showing off Tony’s toned legs. His chest was bare save for a jeweled collar that stretched down over his collarbones and down his chest, barely brushing his nipples but covering his upper body.

“Caught a hair,” Tony griped, pouting at Hope, who merely continued to work on the puffy, mesh sleeves that were attached to gold bands on his biceps and wrists, “Careful.”

“Don’t move, then,” she answered, digging through her fabrics for more mesh to easily sew together a veil that rested on Tony’s ears and nose to slightly hide the lower half of his face, “How does that feel?”

“Emasculating, but not in a bad way,” he admitted, turning to admire his backside in the mirror, “It’s weird to not have pubic hair, but I think it’s okay. For what it is.”

 _Oh, dear Odin,_ Steve thought to himself, imagining Tony with dark curls peeking out from above the tight band of the skirt.

“Concubines are not allowed to have visible body hair unless their master specifically forbids shaving,” Hope answered, “Now, let's remove these so I can start on the second outfit.”

“How many do I need?” Tony complained, letting her undress him.

Before she could remove the skirt, Steve whirled back around, eyes wide and his lips pressed together, looking as if he were a child caught stealing a nub of bread. _Guilty_ was not a word he often associated with himself, but in nearly seeing Tony nude without the man’s permission—

“You can look, you know. I am comfortable in my body— _ouch_ , that one was on purpose, and you know it—”

Steve could not suppress the laugh at Tony’s complaint, deciding that he could indulge himself and that if he was not as attracted to another man as Peggy thought he was, he could put the whole nonsense to rest. He turned around, and seeing Tony fully bared to him, felt his blood leave his head and rush into his belly again. Now that Tony was cleaned and trimmed, it was quite obvious how stunning the man was, even if his manhood was not proudly curled against his thigh. His tanned skin somehow made his eyes glow, like thick, sweet honey dripping from its wand, waiting to be devoured. Steve visibly swallowed, finding his eyes fixing themselves to Tony’s chest. Black and blue bruises looped over his delicate chest, but in the middle of his sternum rested a large knot of scarred tissue, sending out white tendrils across his skin. Steve looked up at Tony, and for once, thought he saw a flash of shame on the man’s face.

“May—may I ask what happened? To—uh, to—”

“An experiment went wrong, nothing more,” Tony said gently, resting a hand over the hub of the scars, “I can have it covered.”

“No,” Steve heard himself say, surprising them both.

He stood and walked over to Tony, ignoring Hope’s grunt as her work was bothered. Carefully, he reached out to ghost his hand over the markings, drawing back when he heard Tony’s sharp breath.

“Do not worry. I will not touch it unless you allow me to. I understand a man’s hesitation to have his wounds caressed,” Steve murmured quietly, “I hope to earn your trust, Anthony. I am glad you allowed me this. Showing any form of weakness, either past or present, is difficult for any man.”

“You missed your calling as a poet.”

The comment made Steve laugh, breaking the tension between them. He looked up from the scars to smile at Tony, feeling his chest flutter at the relief he found in his eyes.

“My liege, if you don’t mind, I need to finish outfitting him,” Hope said, giving Steve a side-eye, “Unless you wish your concubine to be nude.”

“Perhaps one day,” he said, “But for now, yes, dress him. The red was an excellent choice. Make him something in gold, and now that I’ve thought about it, in emerald as well. And give him jewelry to rival even the richest of princesses. Nothing but the finest.”

“Of course, my liege.”

“One day?” Tony piped up, confusion filling his gaze.

_Oh shit, oh shit—_

“I, uh—I think—I hear my name being called,” Steve stammered awkwardly, “Hope, see to it that Tony is put back into bed when you are finished and have the chefs prepare him something to eat. Bring him lemon cake and beer.”

He did not stay around long enough to hear Hope say, _of course, my liege_ ; Steve walked out the door like he was barefoot on hot coals, finding his feet carrying him down to his closest advisor’s door. After a moment, he knocked and entered, unsurprised to find Bucky with Natasha on top of him.

“Bad timing?” Steve asked, closing the door behind him despite the couple continuing their lovemaking.

“Seeing as you did not turn around and leave, apparently not,” Bucky grumbled, turning them onto their sides so he could still slowly rock his hips into her, “I’m not stopping here, so you better have a damn—”

“I’m going to have to bed Anthony and I’m definitely attracted to him,” Steve steamrolled right over Bucky, dragging up a chair and pretending to not hear Natasha’s soft pants, “I—damn, Buck, its like he shoved a lit torch into my guts, I didn’t realize how beautiful he is and _did I mention I’m going to have to bed him in front of the entire kingdom_? You know I haven’t done any of this before, I barely did anything with Peg, and now I’m going to have to claim him and I told him I wasn’t going to _but now I have to_ and he looked so _hurt_ , god, Buck—”

“Alright, alright, it’s one of those,” Bucky sighed, carefully pulling out off Natasha before smacking her behind once, “Go bathe, I’ll be with you in a moment.”

Natasha spared Steve a glare before slipping out of the bed, uncaring of her nudity as she went to their bathing room. Steve sighed, propping his hand on his cheek as Bucky covered himself up with the bedsheets.

“Okay. So you evoked the law and have to fuck him in front of everyone, so what? You won’t see anyone, it’ll be fine, and from what I’ve heard, the Prince is somewhat of a whore, so your first will actually be good,” Bucky snorted, “Look, you promised him when you didn’t know, right?”

Steve nodded.

“Well, then extenuating circumstances happened. I’d rather be fucked by a good-looking King than be dead and dismembered.”

“Still, wouldn’t—it’s _rape_ , Bucky,” Steve whispered harshly.

Bucky leveled him with a look, and Steve pouted, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Maybe. But don’t you think that would be something you discuss with Anthony?” Bucky sighed, “Or are you concerned you won’t perform like with Peggy?”

“That won’t be a problem, that’s _why_ I’m concerned,” Steve said through gritted teeth, “He was being fitted and—god, Bucky, he’s not built like you or me, but he’s toned, like Wilson is. He’s absolutely _breathtaking_ , and his cock—oh god, Buck, I’m in over my head, I can’t get the image of his cock out of my head. He’s not small, by any means, even when not aroused, and I—my first thought was to _worship_ it. I’m—god, I’m horrible, Buck.”

“No, no, hey, you stop that,” Bucky interrupted, “So what? You’re _interested_. That’s a _good_ thing. It would be more concerning if you had to perform under pressure and had no interest in his manhood. The least you can do for him is make it good. If you want, I can get some of the men from the brothel to teach you—”

“No,” Steve said firmly, ignoring how hot his face felt, “If I’m going to do this, I’m going to do it on my own. I owe that much to him.”

“Technically, you don’t owe him anything,” Bucky said gently, “Why don’t you ask him? Maybe he’d be more comfortable if you had some experience. Tell him to answer you honestly.”

“That’s manipulative.”

“Perhaps, but I would rather manipulate someone into telling me the truth than screw them over because I was too much of a coward to ask them.”

“ _Hey—_ ”

“James!” Natasha’s voice broke the conversation.

Bucky immediately hopped out of bed, his own cock still hard against his belly.

“Sorry, Steven. You might have to figure this one out on your own,” he said, ducking into the bathing room.

Unsettled, Steve left and closed the door behind him, staring at the cobblestone floor as he thought. Attraction to men was not uncommon for other males, but romantic involvement with a slave was unheard of and generally ended up with the slave being killed. And, since he did not want to bed someone without the potential of a romantic involvement, Steve found himself stuck in a dilemma with a man he thought dead only mere hours before.

_You’re a King. Suck it up._

He took a deep breath and headed back up to his own quarters, knocking gently before opening the door. Pleased to see Hope had left, he headed to his personal bar to pour himself a glass of wine. He never drank enough to get drunk, but the fermented fruit eased his nerves, and when he turned to see Tony on his bed, he was glad for the inhibitor. He was asleep and spread out on the bed, clearly nude save for a piece of the bedsheet covering his manhood and one of his legs. In sleep, he looked younger than he was, but the deep creases under his eyes betrayed a type of tiredness that Steve was all too familiar with. Carefully, he tiptoed over to the bed and sat down next to Tony, slowly reaching out to cup his cheek in his hand.

“You must eat,” Steve said quietly, feeling Tony wake up under his touch, “Then we need to talk. I have…fears that I need to discuss with you. I do not wish to frighten you any more than I already have today.”

Tony hummed softly and opened his eyes, turning to smile into Steve’s palm.

“Save the talk, darling. Worry will only bring creases to your eyes and mouth,” he said, moving his lips against Steve’s hand, “Whatever it is can be saved for the morning. For tonight, allow me to show you my gratitude.”

Steve made a strangled noise and pulled his hand away, aware of his heart thumping in his chest as it sent his blood rushing south again. Tony immediately gave him a concerned look, wincing as he attempted to sit up.

“No, no, you don’t—you don’t have to do any of that,” Steve said quickly, “You need to rest, lay down, get healed—”

“Do you not want me?” Tony asked, allowing himself to be manhandled, “I thought—earlier, you looked me over like one does at a honeyed goat leg. I _saw_ your arousal. I do not mind, I’m quite flattered that someone of your stature—”

“I am not using my position to—to make you do anything,” He mumbled in embarrassment, making sure Tony was comfortable against the pillows, “I told you, I did not intend for you to be a sex slave, I want your brilliant mind—”

“Steve. It’s undeniable how attractive you are, not to mention well endowed,” Tony barreled on, grabbing Steve’s wrist to put his hand back on his cheek, “If you asked me as a free man, I would say yes, without hesitation. But, if you wish to wait until the consummation ceremony, then so be it. I am _willing_. Being a sex slave to Adonis is not so bad. If I was free, there would be a good chance I’d give up that liberty to bed you and be the only one to bed you. Plus, you’re giving me free reign to do what I love and hopefully help people, so I don’t—”

“It’s still _rape_ , Tony, and—I’m no good. I’m not experienced. I might hurt you, and you’re in no shape anyway for sex,” Steve interrupted, “You can’t consent, you’re a—shit. You can’t consent. Not unless you’re free. And if I set you free, they’ll kill you.”

More silence stretched out between them, then Tony shrugged.

“You don’t have to tell them,” he offered, a sly grin on his face, “It’s not like I have anywhere to go, since your men kind of burned down my kingdom, but it's not like I would go back there anyway. At least here, I know you will be good to me. So, we just tip-toe around a little. It’s not like I really mind the whole concubine title anyway. Ladies and men loved to collar me and whip me when I let them, so I am not unused to the practice.”

Steve flushed deeply at that, coughing into his elbow to try and hide his growing arousal.

“We…maybe, maybe we could do that,” he finally said, “Even so, that does not mean you are healed enough—”

“For penetrative sex, no, definitely not. But as you can tell, my mouth is perfectly fine.”

He had chosen a bad time to take a sip of his wine, spitting out the liquid at Tony’s lewd offer. Steve grimaced as Tony giggled, using the back of his hand to wipe the liquid from his lips. Turning to scold him, he was met with soft lips on his own and a hand on his jaw, firm and calloused as it held him in place. He groaned into the kiss, pleased to hear Tony purr as he chased after Tony’s lips when he moved away. Feeling something like a dam break inside of him, arousal flooded his guts, and his wineglass dropped and shattered on the ground. Uncaring, Steve crawled up and over Tony, careful of his injuries as he fitted their mouths better together; like his eyes, Steve realized Tony tasted of honey, sweet and luxurious under his tongue. He wanted to make it last, savor him like dessert during the famine months, but he forced himself to pull back, aware that the lack of air was getting to his head.

“Well, pardon me for saying so, but damn,” Tony panted, his lips red and slicked with saliva, “I thought you’d only kissed a few men.”

“I know how to kiss, but not much more,” Steve mumbled back, trying to catch his own breath, “I’m afraid that’s about all I’m good at.”

“Then I would be more than honored to let you kiss me for as long as you’d like.”

Steve ducked his head into Tony’s neck and laughed, gently kissing the skin there until Tony was pliant and moaning under his mouth. He moved down to Tony’s collarbones and over to his shoulder, placing soft kisses and small bites until the man was begging him for more.

“You are a _tease_ , here I thought you were kind,” Tony groaned, reaching up to pinch his own nipple, “And I thought—”

“Hush now,” Steve soothed, taking Tony’s hand away from his chest to lace with his own, “I won’t tease. I meant it when I said you are too injured.”

“But now I’m aroused, and it hurts to flex my arms,” he admitted with a whine, turning his glazed eyes to meet Steve’s, “Won’t you take care of me?”

He laughed softly and bent over to kiss Tony again, shivering at how perfectly their mouths fit together.

“In due time. For now, will it away,” Steve murmured, content to lay down next to Tony, “Dinner is soon, anyway, and my chef would not be too happy if he walked in on us. Plus, perhaps I should savor this, and you. Maybe I can declare our… _involvement_ during the copulation ceremony. Until then, we can experiment, but only when you are healed.”

“You are going to be the death of me,” Tony sighed, a fond smile on his face as he turned his head toward Steve, “But I think I will enjoy it anyway.”

“I think you will find more enjoyment in your future once you can walk,” He snorted, rolling his eyes, “Though I don’t doubt we will find enjoyment in each other, I think you’ll be happier once you are able to work and move about on your own.”

“You know me well…it’s a bit off-putting.”

“I’m known to be able to read people. Plus, your eyes lit up like lanterns when I mentioned the engineering laboratory. That’s a look I know all too well.”

“Oh?”

Steve laid by Tony’s side and talked long into the night about art and music and theatre, telling him stories of growing up as he fed Tony dinner and pieces of lemon cake. In return, Tony took his turn when the lighters came into the quarters to light the candles, talking about his own childhood and the abuse he suffered by Howard. He fed Steve pitted cherries and blueberries, shivering when the man’s lips wrapped around his fingers to take the fruit from his hand; his voice stuttered until he began to talk about his work, gesturing wildly with his hands to the point where Steve had to gently take them to keep him from aggravating his wounds.

“I want to see it for myself. Your work. Whatever you choose to create,” he said, bringing Tony’s hands to his lips to kiss his knuckles, “I would be honored if you let me see into your mind.”

“Darling,” Tony said, squeezing Steve’s hands, “I will let you have more than my mind, I promise you that.”

He figured Tony was making another lewd comment, but his heart seized once the thought floated into his head:

_Oh, let it be your heart._


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The ceremony.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ask and ye shall receive. Rated NC-17 for explicit fornication.

Tony’s rehabilitation took longer than Steve expected, but only because the man was stubborn and insisted on walking on his bad leg the day after Banner had _specifically_ told him to not walk for at least a week. Because of that, the coronation ceremony had to constantly be pushed back until Banner determined that Tony was fit enough to take part, considering he had to crawl across the stone tiles in the throne room. This is where Steve found him, freshly bathed after his latest sparring session with Peggy: Tony was standing stiffly, hands wringing in front of him as he looked at Steve’s gilded throne, faced out toward the open balcony.

“Tony,” Steve said quietly, making sure to not sneak up on the man.

There was no verbal recognition, but his shoulders dropped slightly, so Steve figured he’d been heard. The first time he’d accidentally scared Tony, the man had dropped to his ass and cowered up against the wall, a clear sign of lasting battle trauma that many men in his own battalion carried. He’d carefully knelt before Tony with a square of honeyed oats, feeding him small pieces and whispering soothing words until he could look Steve in the eyes. The guilt and shame that filled his usually sharp gaze worried Steve, and he drew him into his arms, ignoring how his knees ached from being on the floor for so long. Since then, Steve learned to make sure his presence was known.

“Tony,” he said again, making sure the man was listening, “What are you doing?”

“Thinking,” he answered automatically, “Thinking about yesterday. Today. Tomorrow.”

“The coronation,” Steve supplied, walking over to gently rest his hands on Tony’s bare hips, “It frightens you.”

He said it as a statement, not a question, as he could feel the tension coming off of the man in waves. He propped his chin up on the top of Tony’s head, smoothing his hands over his soft belly to try and calm him.

“If it soothes you, I am not ready either,” he said, smiling when Tony’s hands came up to rest over his own, “Sharing has never been my forte, but with you, even less.”

“I am sure most of your city has seen my manhood anyway. I wasn’t exactly shy in my youth,” Tony said, moving so he was facing in toward Steve’s chest, “I’m more worried for you, my liege. You _do_ have to perform.”

Steve growled slightly, annoyed at being reminded. It was no secret between them that they had electric energy, but anytime their simple fooling around was interrupted, his manhood seemed to lose interest, proving to be a problem as the coronation loomed.

“Feel no worry. I’ll take care of you,” Tony continued, smoothing his hands up the front of Steve’s tunic, “I am…eager to finally service you the way I want to.”

That had also been an issue at the beginning of their relationship; the old laws disallowed any sort of sexual nature beyond a few kisses until the coronation ceremony, and considering they had to share a room and that neither man hid their attraction for the other, it had led to hurried shows without them touching each other.

It was _torture_.

“I wish it was behind closed doors, though,” Steve mumbled, fully wrapping his arms around Tony to hold him close.

“I know, darling. We will make of it what we can and deal with the aftermath.”

They spent a few quiet moments in each other’s arms, looking out over the balcony to watch the sun set on the kingdom. By now, it was merely a night’s rest until the coronation was to begin, starting with a large feast and games in the city square. Knowing that he was going to have Tony take the last shreds of his virginity—and probably the last bits of his dignity as well—Steve shuddered, ducking his face into the man’s neck. His crown felt too tight, so he removed it and held it in one hand, letting Tony hold him.

“It’ll be alright,” the man whispered, turning his head to nose at Steve’s cheek, “I’ll be right there with you.”

_As with the rest of the kingdom._

Steve pulled back and resettled his circlet on his brow, unable to help his smile when Tony reached up to adjust it. He gently squeezed the man’s hips before guiding him out of the throne room, keeping one hand on the dip of his bare back. Since finding out that the city tended to run hot, Tony had been wearing less and less clothing, until he managed to get away with nearly translucent drapes, slippers, and enough jewelry to make him worth more than the cavalry. Steve quickly decided that he did not mind, as long as Tony remained in the castle. It was no secret that Tony was attractive, _especially_ in the traditional concubine garb, and Steve was not bent on sharing him with anyone, even if it was through stolen glances.

“My lord?” Tony asked, drawing Steve out of his thoughts.

“Yes, my tiger’s eye?” Steve hummed, trailing his thumb up and down Tony’s spine.

“I have a request of you,” he said, pushing open the door to Steve’s chambers, “For…after the ceremony.”

Steve made a noise at that, beginning to strip his tunic when Tony stopped him, undoing the lacing himself.

“I wish to prepare something for you. Something special,” he continued, slowly pulling out the laces and setting them aside, “I do not want to ruin the surprise, but I wanted to ask your permission, as I’ll need help in carrying it out.”

“Well, Natasha and Bucky are supposed to help you learn your, ah, _duties_ for when the ceremony is over. The people only get to see the first of the…uh, yeah,” Steve said awkwardly, shrugging out of the tunic for Tony to set aside, “We’ll be occupied for the night—”

“Yes, I know, but I’m—I’m anticipating that you will need time to recover,” Tony said, grabbing Steve’s dressing robe to hang on his broad shoulders, “I’m sure you will want to have more of me, my liege, I do not doubt that. Talent is not something I am lacking in.”

“Only height,” Steve joked, grinning when Tony pouted.

Glancing over to see the door was closed, he leaned down for a kiss, cupping Tony’s face in his hands. He brushed his thumbs over his stubbled cheeks, basking in the sweet taste of the fruit the man had eaten earlier in the day. They lingered for a moment before Steve reluctantly pulled away, pressing their foreheads together to maintain contact.

“You have my permission, my fire opal,” he said quietly, sinking a hand into Tony’s soft curls, “Beautiful, stunning—”

“—Does not do well under intense pressure?”

Steve laughed, ducking his head into Tony’s neck to kiss the expanse of skin. He hummed pleasantly, easily picking up the smaller man into his arms and sighing when he felt his heels knock against his back.

“It sometimes slips my mind that you are also a blacksmith by trade,” he confessed, carrying Tony over to the bed to lay him down, “But every time I feel your calloused hands, I remember. I’m still not sure how I forget.”

“Most see me—ah, saw me, for my title, not my trade,” Tony said, reaching up to tuck a stray hair back under the curve of Steve’s circlet, “I think you see it more oft than you realize. You took me in for it, after all.”

“I saw the bravery in the difficult choices you made,” Steve murmured, laying down next to Tony, “I saw a man who tried to save the world by destroying his own. Though a bit reckless, you did what you had to, and I do not blame you for it. If I was in your position, I would have done the same. Either way, it is past, and you need not worry yourself about it any longer, even though I know you will.”

Tony huffed at that, turning his head on the pillow to frown at him.

“You say you know, but you have known me but a few suns,” he said flatly, turning his gaze to the ceiling.

“I know when I meet a man who thinks too much. They remind me of myself,” Steve said carefully, running his hand over Tony’s bare stomach to feel the stubble under his navel, “You are brilliant, Tony, more intelligent than myself, Peggy, Clinton—and I know that intelligent men are oft saddled with the same curse. You cannot help but think, can you? You worry and wonder and the same fire in your eyes turns to ice with the smallest thought.”

He was quiet as he let his words sink in, watching Tony’s chest rise and fall under his fingers. Slowly, Steve moved his hand up to trace Tony’s collarbones, careful to not touch his scarring.

“Your perceptiveness frustrates me,” Tony finally said, smirking when Steve laughed, “I’m sure Margaret would agree. She loves to talk about how you know much, but also know _so_ little.”

“She’s right,” He agreed sheepishly, “I…can get caught up in what I think and miss the obvious. She used to tell me that she hoped my obliviousness was not in the bloodline.”

Tony laughed at that, his eyes creasing at the corners as he turned on his side to face him fully. He trailed his hands up Steve’s chest, pausing as his hands reached his pectorals.

“Your heart quickens. Faster than when I usually touch you,” He said, looking up at Steve from under his long lashes, “Are you frightened?”

“The sun rises,” Steve answered quietly, reaching up to take both of Tony’s hands in one of his own, “The rays make your hair shine. I wish to see it always.”

The honesty made Tony pause and blink in surprise, but before he could comment on Steve’s lack of answer, the door to the bedroom was thrown open. Steve crouched over Tony in an instant, only to relax when he saw it was Bucky, picking his teeth with his fingernail.

“I’ve come to collect. Hope wants to begin preparations for him, and Wilson’s requested your presence in the kitchens,” he said, tilting his head, “Nat put him on duty for watching you and keeping you calm without getting you drunk.”

“Great,” Steve sighed, scooting out of bed to let Tony help him re-don his tunic, “Do you know what he has planned?”

“As far as I know, he had Chef make extra sweets for you to try,” he said with a shrug, “They’ll be for after the main ceremony.”

“Speaking of, my lord has granted me permission to make plans for afterward,” Tony said, watching Steve nod at Bucky, “It is…somewhat of a surprise, but I’ll need your help.”

“If it involves pranking him, I’m all in,” Bucky answered, grinning when Tony frowned, “C’mon then. Let’s go get you ready.”

He led Tony away and down toward Hope’s quarters, leaving Steve to stand and stare at Tony’s bouncing backside as he strolled down the hall in next to no clothes.  Secretly, he was glad it was Bucky watching over him, as he knew the man would guard Tony without attempting to take his prize. Dashing the thoughts from his head, Steve headed down to the kitchens, smiling when he saw Sam sitting up on the counter, eating a peach as he talked animatedly to the head chef, Wanda. He plucked the fruit from the man’s hand and took a bite, humming warmly at the taste of its sweet juice.

“Hey! I was eating that,” Sam grunted, hopping off the counter as he snatched it back, “Get your own, your highness.”

“You should not have eaten that one anyway. I only got enough ripe peaches to fill my recipes,” Wanda grumbled, flicking flour at Sam, “Why must you come into my kitchens and eat my desserts?”

“Because they’re delicious and someone has to be the cupbearer?”

Steve laughed at that, clapping a hand onto Sam’s back.

“You say that as though my stomach cannot handle a little poison,” he teased, knocking the peach out of Sam’s mouth with the force of his hand.

“Most of us generally die when that happens,” Sam grunted, picking up the ruined peach to toss outside onto the compost, “Either way, Wanda did make small cakes you should try. The Lady Carbonell was fond of them, and she believes they will help you woo Anthony.”

“Woo?” Steve squeaked, his cheeks blossoming into a cherry red as he looked between them, “Ah, Sam, you know that the royal—”

“The only person who gives a royal fuck about the old laws is Elder Fury. Besides, it does not take a Hawkman to see the looks you two give each other when you believe the other man is not looking,” Sam said, picking up one of the cakes to pop into his mouth.

“Clinton would have your head for calling him that,” Wanda said with a huff, “He’s a damn good trainer and you know it.”

“My Redwing has better sight _and_ better accuracy.”

“I’ll vouch for Clinton. Lucky is a damn good bird,” Steve said, picking up one of the cakes, “But we can discuss this later. These cakes look really good and I haven’t eaten in a fortnight.”

“So an hour?” Sam asked, grunting when Steve whacked him in the stomach.

“Boys,” Wanda chided, shaking her head before pointing at the cakes, “These are fruit and spice cakes, covered in honey and sugar glazes. There’s peach, blueberry, lemon, rum, chocolate, and vanilla. If my sources are correct, Anthony’s favorite is the rum. He’s a liquor kind of man.”

“Really?” Steve asked with his mouth full, looking sheepish before swallowing and asking again, “Really? He has yet to ask for a real drink. I’ve offered him wine, mead, even the harder liquors Banner uses for cleansing. He drinks mostly beer or, if I push the glass into his hands, the sweet wine.”

Wanda shrugged and pushed the plate of cakes closer, so Steve picked up one of the vanilla ones and popped it into his mouth. He nodded, licking his lips and moving to grab another until a wood spoon whacked his knuckles.

“Save them for Anthony. I only had enough ingredients to make these few,” She scolded, “I’ll deliver them up to your quarters once you leave for the ceremony.”

Steve sighed and nodded, pouting as he cradled his hand to his chest. He knew Wanda meant well, and he _did_ need to save them to share with Tony. They were quite sweet, and knowing the other’s preferred tastes, he would enjoy them.

“Speaking of, we need to get you changed,” Sam said, interrupting Steve’s thoughts, “Your royal crown is being brought out for the ceremony, and Hope has had a robe made for you, even though you are supposed to be bare. We decided that we do not want you to get sick from the chill of the day.”

He put a hand on Steve’s shoulder to squeeze lightly, nodding at Wanda before guiding the man out of the kitchens.

“You seem afraid,” he commented, more as an observation than anything else, “Can I help ease you?”

“Not at all. Once I have Tony in my arms and it is over, I will be better,” Steve admitted quietly, allowing Sam to guide him through the castle, “The showing off—I never intended for this to happen this way.”

“I know. You will be alright. Plus, more than most of us have already seen your manhood on the battlefield,” He joked, trying to make Steve more comfortable.

Steve stiffened a little at that, so Sam dropped his hand. Together, they silently made their way to Hope’s quarters, where the woman was waiting with Steve’s new garment in her arms. She quickly undressed him save for his loincloth, then dressed him in a gilded robe, keeping it closed with a belt around his waist. Then, she reached up without looking to pull off the cloth, leaving Steve bare underneath the robe.

“When you sit for the ceremony, you are to remain belted. Anthony will remove the belt and perform,” she explained, folding up Steve’s clothes to give to Sam, “He knows what to do in terms of his part of the law. All you need to do is sit, and after the ceremony is complete, you will collar him and lead him out of throne room.”

“Collar? What collar?” Steve asked, attempting to keep his voice level despite the rising anxiety in his chest.

Hope and Sam stared at him, and when it became clear that Steve genuinely did not know, they exchanged worried looks with each other.

“What. Collar,” Steve demanded harshly.

“Taking a concubine by the old law requires that the conquered be, for lack of better wording, humiliated,” Hope explained, keeping her eyes on the floor, “They are to wear a collar stamped with the king’s insignia to show that they are property, rather than a person, as they were taken in for nothing more than sexual pleasure as the conquest of war.”

Silence descended on the room, squeezing Steve’s chest in a way that made him momentarily wonder if he was going to break a rib.

“How long must—how long must he wear it,” he asked with a broken voice.

“Until he dies, my lord.”

He took a breath and turned around, straightening his back to attempt and regain his composure. Since Tony had been to Hope first, he had probably already been informed, which meant he was told he was going to be literally shackled for the rest of his life. Something he had promised he would not do to the man.

“Very well,” Steve said, inwardly shocked at how calm his voice was, “Make sure it is not heavy on his bones, and that it of a material that can withstand high heat.”

With that, he left Sam and Hope sharing a frantic look, sweeping out of Hope’s quarters with the intention of heading to his own. However, Bucky cut him off at his doorway, slinging a strong arm around his shoulders and steering him away.

“Anthony has been making preparations, you are not allowed in until after the ceremony,” he said, tugging Steve in to run his knuckles over his head, “Come, we need to get you seated and put the royal crown on you.”

“Bucky, please, I just—”

“He’s okay,” Bucky interrupted quietly, stopping them in the hallway in turning Steve to face him, “Really. I was there when he was…dressed. He knows and he’s okay. You’ll get to talk to him once the ceremony’s over. Besides, I can put in a request to meet with the Elders and see if we can work something out, alright? You already have enough on your unfairly broad shoulders. Let us serve you.”

He relaxed a little at Bucky’s words, and with a short nod, Bucky put a hand on his shoulder and smiled.

“Let’s get you ready,” He said, guiding Steve toward the throne room, “Now, when you sit, you must keep your hands on the arms of the throne until you collar him, and do _not_ look at him when he enters. He’s supposed to service you without help or any kind of encouragement.”

When they stepped into the room, with the bright midday sun streaming in through the open balcony, deafening cheers erupted from the gathered peoples outside. If he had not been as well trained as he was, Steve was sure he would have screamed and leaped into Bucky’s arms from being startled so. Keeping his head held high, he strode to his throne and faced the people, standing tall in an attempt to hide the persistent thrum of anxiety that made his skin crawl. He knew that his duty as a King to the people was above all else, including his personal comfort, but this was _ridiculous_. Sure, sex and its… intricacies…were an established part of life, common enough to be found on every street corner and in alleyways, but he was a _King_. Why was this one privacy denied to him?

Blinking back to the reality at hand, Steve bowed his head to Bucky, allowing the man to slip off his lighter circlet in exchange for the heraldic crown, heavy and uncomfortable when it was set on his head. In reality, this crown was only worn for short periods of time to emulate the city’s wealth, but if Steve had his way, he would sell the damn thing and use the wealth to help the people prosper. He entertained the thought again as he sat on his throne, wondering how to introduce it to the Elders when the royal trumpets sounded, causing those gathered to scream in fervor. Steve gripped the edges of the throne, tense as the ceremony began.

_I am sorry, my sweeting._

He heard Tony before he saw him, but he was momentarily surprised by this, considering that he could feel the force of the crowd’s screams. He had to really strain to hear it, but the soft jingling coming from his right indicated that he must be wearing beading of some sort; most likely gold since he would be considered property of the King—

Steve’s thoughts died the second Tony finally crawled into view on all fours. He felt his mouth dry up and his eyes widen, only barely managing to keep his mouth closed. Sure, he had seen Tony naked plenty of times, but Hope had dressed him in golden bangles on his wrists and ankles, with what he could only describe as a beaded golden thong keeping his clearly aroused manhood trapped up against his belly. His hair was held back by a thin, golden laurel wreath, giving him the appearance of a fallen Apollo, or maybe Hermes, begging for forgiveness.

_Even gods can reign on their knees_ , Steve thought somewhere in the background, suddenly all too aware of how fast he was breathing.

“My lord,” Tony said under his breath once he was in front of Steve, up on his knees to bare his front to him.

Steve licked his lips and nodded, thankful that Tony was blocking him so that the people could not see the blush on his face. He studied Tony for a moment, swallowing when he realized that Hope had painted kohl around Tony’s eyes, making the gold flecks in them be that much more prominent.

_Damn her._

“I wish to see all of you. Take you in,” He said quietly, having to clear his throat to keep from stammering, “Walk for me?”

Tony nodded and stood, turning on his heel to walk toward the whistling and jeering crowd, letting Steve see how the garment hugged the cleft of his ass and smoothed out his waist, making his hips seem fuller and more feminine. When he turned around to face Steve again, an easy smirk rested on his lips, and Steve knew that Tony knew how good he looked.

_Damn you, too._

He strode over and eased back down onto his knees in front of Steve, not hesitating to reach forward and take hold of his belt, letting it fall open and taking the robe with it. Steve hissed softly as the cool air hit his warmed skin, making his toes curl against the stone tiling. Tony seemed to not notice, ducking his head to place soft kisses on him from his ankles to his knees, slowly easing his legs open to give him room to work. Steve obliged despite the embarrassment heating his face and chest, having to close his eyes to try and block out the screaming and cheering in the background.

“Focus on me, my liege,” Tony’s voice murmured as lips ghosted over the shell of his ear, “Pretend it is just us, my dove.”

He could do that.

Steve forced his eyes open, flicking his hesitant gaze over to meet Tony’s sure one. Seeing the calm in the man’s eyes, he felt himself relax, shivering when Tony murmured small encouragements. His calloused hands ran down his chest, caressing and teasing his sensitive skin. Steve exhaled a sharp breath when Tony closed his mouth over one of his nipples, licking and sucking the nub until it was red and glistening against his pale skin. He looked up at Steve and winked, moving to its match to give it the same attention until Steve was forcibly gripping the throne to keep from writhing in place.

“At ease,” He whispered when he pulled back, licking his slightly swollen lips, “Concentrate on me.”

When he was watching Tony, the noise of the crowd became distant, their gazes faded away, and nothing existed except the sly gaze peeking out from women’s lashes and his beautiful, sharp mouth, leaving promises over the curve of his hip and in the swell of his thigh. He bit down on his lip as Tony turned his head inward, nosing at the carefully trimmed curls at the base of his cock. With one last comforting glance upward, Tony reached up to take Steve in hand, licking a stripe from root to tip that forced a whimper out from his clenched teeth. He desperately wanted to touch; he itched to run his fingers through Tony’s hair, take hold of the curled locks to hold him in place, run his hands over his tanned body to feel the smoothness of his skin, the rough divots from smithing accidents, the raised scars that mottled his chest like pox—

“My lord, you think too much.”

Steve nearly asked what that meant before Tony’s lips took in the head of his cock, making him swear loudly and clamp down on the arms of the throne. Bucky laughed somewhere behind him, but his brain was too scrambled from the sensory input to really care. He could only groan as he watched Tony slowly take his cock in, inch by inch, until his nose was pressed back up against his hairs with his cock fully seated in his throat. Something in him wondered if Tony could breathe like that, but when the man swallowed around him, Steve could only focus on tightening his thighs to keep from coming right there.

“We really don’t have all day,” Natasha said on his left, “Can you hurry this up?”

“Fuck off,” Steve croaked, a shuddery moan falling from his lips when Tony pulled off, delicately kissing the slit in the tip of his cock.

“Yes, my lady,” he said, standing up again.

Tony pulled at the strings on the sides of his garment, letting the thong drop to the floor and kicking it away. Steve was momentarily grateful for the crowd's noise because he gasped, unable to hold back the noise at seeing the beads wrapped tightly around the other man’s cock, constricting him enough that he was sure it was painful.  He moved to rip it off—it was _hurting_ him—but Tony shook his head, leveling him with a glare.

_Do not fuck this up now._

Steve sat back, his brow furrowed in worry and half a mind to end the stupid ceremony right there, but he knew more was at stake, so he tried to relax, and nodded at Tony to continue.  With ease, Tony climbed up onto the throne and straddled Steve’s lap, hushing him softly and cupping his cheeks, leaning down leave a whisper of a kiss on his lips.

“It's alright,” he murmured, and Steve wondered if that was for him or for them both.

They locked eyes and Tony reached down between them to take Steve’s cock in hand, positioning himself as he slowly lowered himself down until he was fully sheathed inside of him.

It was nothing like he’d ever felt before.

Tony was warm, hot, even, hotter than a summer’s day, smooth like his throat had been but tighter, constricting him in a way that made him feel like he was going to climax that very second. He must have been prepared before the ceremony began, since he knew men did not naturally yield like women, but Tony was slick, and his movements made an unseemly squelching noise that Steve believed should have made him soft, but only served to increase his arousal. He unashamedly moaned, letting Tony pull his face into his neck to try and keep the noises between them.

“I am right here, my love,” Tony whispered as quietly as he could, somehow still pumping his thighs to keep rolling his hips down onto Steve’s cock, “It’s okay.”

It was too much; the noise, the exhibition, Tony’s voice, Tony’s mouth, Tony, Tony, _Tony—_

Steve bit down onto Tony’s collarbone when it became too much, hips stuttering up into the man as he filled him with his seed. The taste of metal filled his mouth, and when he felt like he could pull away, Steve felt horror sink his gut like a stone when he saw the bite mark he had left, fresh blood beading up on it. His apology was drowned out by the trumpets sounding and the people cheering, but Tony merely smirked at him, raising himself up off his quickly softening cock to kneel back down. Guilt gnawed at Steve’s innards, threatening upheaval when Bucky stepped forward with a purple, silk pillow in his hands.

On it rested the collar, gold like the bangles Tony wore, gold like the flecks in his eyes, gold like the beads still wrapped around his angry cock that Steve was sure was bruised.

He choked down a sob as he reached out with shaky hands to pick it up, feeling its sure weight in its hands. Turning to Tony, he fastened it around the man’s neck, taking four tries to clasp it together due to his hands being unable to stop trembling. The last moments of the ceremony blurred as his crown was taken and replaced with his usual circlet, his robe re-bound around his waist and pages coming forward help him up out of the throne. Steve wrenched his arms from them, attempting to keep his composure as he walked out of the room, hearing Tony follow behind on his hands and knees.

Once they were cleared of the public’s eyes, he whirled around, immediately scooping the smaller man up into his arms. With tears blurring his vision, Steve managed to get them to his quarters with minimal stumbling, slamming the door behind them and locking it tight. He gently set Tony on his feet, ripped off his bangles, then carefully knelt before him, slowly undoing the beads wound around his cock like a thorned rose on a trellis. No sooner had the evil device been removed did Tony choke out a moan of his own, coming in thick spurts over Steve’s face and chin, dripping down his neck and staining his gold cloak.

There was a short pause before Tony tried to stammer out an apology of his own, but Steve merely stood and shook his head, uncaring as he drew the man into his arms and held him. Silently, they stood in an embrace, merely wanting to touch and feel the other’s solid presence and reassure themselves. Tony was the first to pull back, helping to remove Steve’s robe and using it to clean off the seed that was beginning to dry.

“My gift for you awaits,” he said softly, dropping the robe where they stood.

He pulled Steve into the bathing room, smiling as the warm steam greeted them. He’d asked for a bath of hot goat’s milk be readied, with petals from the kingdom’s flowers to be sprinkled in. Wanda’s cakes and a large jug of sweet wine was in reach of the tub, and only a few candles lit the room, basking them both in a soft glow.

“You are the best thing in my life,” Steve said, his voice a mixture of broken and in awe.

He picked Tony up again, smirking at the man’s yelp of surprise as he carefully lowered him into the bath, watching the milk engulf his body until only his head and shoulders were visible. Looking at the bite mark he’d left, Steve whined pitifully, tracing it with a finger.

“It does not hurt, darling. Get in here,” Tony demanded, reaching over to smack Steve’s hand.

Surprised by the act, Steve blinked, shock melting into amusement at Tony’s eye-roll. Carefully, he climbed into the tub, settling himself behind Tony so the man could rest against his chest.

“Much better. I knew you were good for something,” he murmured, sinking into the milk.

“Oh, is that how it is?” Steve asked, grateful for Tony’s humor to help ebb away his worry.

“Kings seem to have a habit of being only good at sitting,” He joked, tugging on Steve’s arms to wrap them around himself, “Being a pillow is a good secondary skill.”

“I’m glad my pillow skills amuse you, dove,” Steve said, leaning down to nose at Tony’ hair.

With a kiss to the patch of skin behind his right ear, Steve began to wash Tony, careful of his scars and bruises. It was only the beginning of the apology he wanted to give, but Tony did seem alright, and he knew that if he bugged him about it he would be angry that he did not trust his word. Still, when he moved to clean Tony’s sensitive and puffy hole, he heard the man hiss and immediately stopped.

“Tony?” He asked, panic seizing his chest, “Are—are you alright? Did I do something? Should—should I get Banner?”

“Oh, gods, no, I’m perfectly fine,” Tony breathed, hurriedly trying to soothe him, “You are just…ah, large, darling. I’m going to be sore for a while, that’s all. It’s perfectly normal. No need to bring in the cavalry.”

Steve stared at him for a moment, then nodded and continue to wash him until he was sure the man had been scrubbed nearly raw. He ducked his head into Tony’s neck and wrapped his arms around him, breathing in his familiar scent to help his aching nerves and the guilt that roiled within him. He was not used to such conflict; some choices he knew had to be made, but this, anything but this—

“Steven,” Tony said quietly, turning around in the bath, “You are not alright, are you?”

Steve choked out a sob, hanging his head so his chin hit his chest. He felt Tony pull him in, graceful fingers sifting through his hair and removing his circlet to be able to massage his temples.

“I knew this would happen,” Tony murmured above him, “I knew—you are too good of a man. I knew this would break you, but I was sure—”

He took a steadying breath and carefully tilted Steve’s head up, capturing his lips in a proper kiss.

“I, too, wish it could have been different,” he said when they pulled apart, keeping their foreheads pressed together, “I wish we could have taken steeds out to the countryside and made love among the reeds, in the fields, under the stars…but some things do not come to pass in the way we desire, let alone in ways that we believe are good or righteous. But, in the end, I am happy that it was with you, and only you.”

“I am in love with you,” Steve whispered, blinking tears out of his eyes as he reached up to cup Tony’s face in his hands, “I will take you to those places, I will give you anything and everything I can, I want—”

“Shh, easy,” Tony soothed, running his hands up Steve’s chest, “We will get there. For now, stay with me, eat cake, drink wine, and fall into bed with me. We have the rest of our lives to figure out the future.”

He pulled away and reached over to pick up one of the chocolate cakes, tearing off pieces to feed to Steve until the red rims around his eyes disappeared. He poured a glass of the sweet wine and held it up to Steve’s lips, having him drink at least half of the glass before setting it aside.

“Thank you,” Steve said once he felt like he could speak again, only to become flustered under Tony’s earnest smile, “May I?”

For Tony he picked up a blueberry cake, unsurprised at how quickly the man devoured the treat, even chasing after Steve’s fingers to lick off the last crumbs. It was intimate, perhaps more intimate than the ceremony, for the glow that Tony had when he offered him the wine was genuine and trusting.

“I’m going to bandage you, then we are going to sleep,” He said quietly once he had washed himself off with Tony’s help, “Is that alright?”

Tony nodded, so Steve eased himself up out of the bath, trotting over to the bounty of medical supplies he kept in his bathing room. He tended to get into trouble, so Bucky had stashes of supplies laying around in case something like this were to happen. Thankfully, he was used to patching up both his battalion and himself, so he easily patched up Tony, frowning when he saw the bruising already beginning to show around the bite mark.

“Do not make that face. It makes you look older,” Tony said, snorting when Steve did a double take, “What? It does. Your face gets all pinched like you just saw a child steal an apple from the market.”

“I’m merely concerned—”

“I do not mind a bit of marking, my lord. Feel free to cover me in your bites and bruises.”

Steve stopped mid-sentence, mouth open as he looked at Tony. He barely registered the man laughing at him as impure thoughts began to wriggle into his brain.

“Bed,” he finally said, eyeing Tony’s grin, “To _rest_. We both need it.”

Easily, Steve picked up Tony out of the basin, grinning when he screeched in surprise. He carried him out to the bed, drying him off with towels before helping him under the mounds of blankets and furs. After drying himself off, he climbed into the warmth, settling himself so Tony could tuck up into his chest.

“Steve?” Tony said after a minute, when they were both drowsy and close to falling asleep.

Steve only managed a grunt of acknowledgment, his eyelids heavy with mental exhaustion.

“I, as well. Love you, that is. I am also in love with you.”

Hearing that sent Steve to sleep with a smile on his face, wrapped protectively around his fallen prince.


End file.
